Stolen Words
by WarrickChopper
Summary: Gemma reads Marrick's love poetry. But who is the lady he's writing about?


Gemma was brushing her hair, readying herself for bed, when she noticed the papers on her dresser.

"Adain? Did you leave something?" she called, but no one answered. She was alone in her room. But then where had the papers come from?

Curious, she picked up the top sheet.

" _I dream of your gentle caress_

 _Your plump lips I long to press_

 _For when you-_ "

She gasped and dropped the parchment, which fluttered to the floor, seemingly in time with the thrumming of her heart.

Poetry! Love poetry, by the looks of it. Not the tame sort either. Surely Adain, young pure girl that she was, would not be writing such a thing. Trembling, she reached down, her ample bosom almost spilling out of her low-cut shirt, to grasp the fallen sheet.

Concentrating, she was able to surmise that it was not written with the typical Earth alphabets. It looked more like another language she had seen before. And Velma didn't write. They must be... Marrick's.

Gemma gulped and put the paper back on the stack. The shock of what she had read was subsiding, and she pieced together the most liked scenario. Murmur, the sneaky Cheshire cat, was prone to borrowing people's belongings when he would disappear, which would reappear with him in the next location. Gemma had lost a few socks and a blanket this way, which Sven had good-naturedly returned. He claimed such incidents were accidents, though she wasn't entirely convinced after her underwear started to show up in Marrick's bed. Murmur had probably been sitting on the papers when he decided to switch to the girl's room, and the poetry had followed with him.

If that was the case, Gemma thought, she had no right to read through them. She ought to return them immediately to Marrick and give him the privacy he deserved. Clearly they were sensitive documents not meant to be read by just anybody. Yes. She would bundle them up and give them back.

Gemma dutifully began to wrap them up in one of Velma's many scarves. But another paper fell out, swaying seductively in the air before she caught it.

" _I cannot breathe yet I long to shout_

 _How much I would love to make out -_ "

Gemma ran to the door, locked it, and sat on the edge of her mattress, the paper shaking in her hand as she read the rest...

.

.

Marrick. Just his name spoken aloud sent shivers of delight down her perfectly formed spine. Gemma had long been besotted by his dashing **blue** visage, the bulbous growth of love in her chest expanding by the day, consuming her senses.

Gemma sighed with satisfaction as she put down the last sheet of poetry and wiped away the sweat that had collected upon her brow. It had been quite an experience, reading through Marrick's hopes and dreams, ecstasies and passions. She knew that she ought to feel guilty, but she could not manage it. She was swept up in a storm of emotions. His words had seemed to echo her very own thoughts and feelings, their two lives swirling about each other as one being. Surely soon they would be together as she had so longed for.

But then a terrible, awful thought ran through her, turning her blood cold in her veins. Who had he written it for?

All the time, she had been dreaming of being with him, but Gemma realized that in fact she had no idea who was the lady (for that much, by anatomical descriptions, had been made clear.)

She wanted it to be her! Please... but how could she dream that to be the case? Marrick constantly interacted with females, from the librarians to the menders to other friendly acquaintances. His beloved could be any of them. Or perhaps even someone that he admired from afar, who she had no knowledge of at all.

There was only one way to find out.

.

.

Gemma felt a little ridiculous in her disguise. In addition, dressing as a large orange lizard had quickly backfired, and she soon afterwards ducked around a corner and used her badge setting for an "Earth" disguise. Now she casually strolled around the library as a petite blonde human female, her nose stuck in a copy of _Twelfth Night_ , surreptitiously searching for her target.

It took a half an hour, as the library was immense, but she finally found him sitting at a desk in front of a portrait of William Shakespeare. How fitting.

"Marrick! There you are," somebody softly called. Gemma jumped at the sound and hid behind a bookcase.

"Oh, hello Snappie," he replied pleasantly. "How are you?"

"So very well now that I found you," the buxom fair-skinned female replied, twirling a curl of her medium length chestnut hair in her hand. "I was wondering if you would like to take a turn with me about the gardens? The air is exceedingly fine to-day."

"Thank you very much Snappie, but I am rather absorbed right now in my book," he replied earnestly.

"Foo," she said, pulling her sensuous red lips into an attractive pout. She adjusted the face-framing glasses on her nose. "And what book is that?"

Marrick's cheeks colored, but he held it aloft for her to see. Gemma squinted and with her eagle-eyes made out the title, "Latin American Ladies and Courting: A Complete Guide."

Gemma's thoughts raced. Was Snappie Latin American? Gemma was herself a bit... but surely the book didn't pertain to herself. Marrick was well known for seeking out books about Earth customs. Nevertheless she saw Snappie's face fall.

" _Well,_ " she said in a huff, "I see you are rather occupied after all." But then she seemed to perk up, and winked at Marrick. "Should you ever decide to abandon that course of study... you know where I am."

"Uh, yes. I'll find you in the doctor's corridor tomorrow," he replied cheerfully, and gave her a small wave as she walked away, her hips swaying.

Well, it seemed like it wasn't Snappie. Or was it? Gemma continued to peer from her hiding place but then saw Marrick gulp and rise, leaving his book on the table. She saw him take a stack of others from his desk and, looking around, began to walk briskly to the eastern wing of the library.

Gemma followed as stealthily as she could, only knocking into one large object as she pursued her prey. She trembled with excitement at the chase. Finally Marrick stopped in front of another bookcase and pulled a tome from its shelf. Gemma saw this one too - "French for Beginners."

"Ah, Marrick! Such a pleasant surprise to run into you here, of all places," an alluring voice cooed to Gemma's right, seemingly out of nowhere. She flinched and blessed her disguise.

"Hi Dasha," Marrick greeted, and then chuckled. "Really surprised to see me here? I come every day."

"Well not to this part of the library."

"I was here yesterday. And saw you then, too."

"Uh. Oh right. So you were." she replied, loosing a significant amount of composure and turning pink. Gemma grinned from her new spot, suppressing a snicker.

"So, any luck with finding that book on Ozite Dances?"

"I'm afraid not Marrick," Dasha sighed, approaching him with a mischievous smile. "This place is ever so confusing. Really I think you'd be so helpful."

"There are librarians, Dasha."

"But I'm not asking for their help, I'm asking for yours," she purred softly, almost too quietly for Gemma to catch. Dasha's tail swayed amorously beneath her miniskirt.

"I, uh," said Marrick, and bumped into the bookcase as he backed away from Dasha's advances. "Are you sure you're still talking about a book?"

"Book? I'm talking about someone who can show me how to dance. How to move..." she growled, and then pulled back to pounce.

She missed as Marrick darted to the side and Dasha plowed straight into a bookshelf. Like dominoes the shelf hit into the one behind it and the proceeding one...

"Nooooooo" moaned Dasha. She was soon surrounded by dismayed librarians. To Gemma's astonishment Pangita, the lead doctor, was soon by Marrick's side.

"Any injuries this time?"

"No, I'm fine. But Dasha..." Marrick gestured to his unfortunate friend. A crowd was beginning to form, mainly of ladies, who were already scolding her. And touching Marrick's arm a great deal.

"We'll take care of her."

"Great. I'm busy, so I'll be going."

"Wait, Marrick..." moaned Dasha, but Marrick was already practically running away from the throng. Gemma saw him dart up the stairs. She'd have to be quick. Like a lightning bolt she leaped over the fallen books after her quarry.

But as she rounded the corner Gemma nearly jumped in surprise to find Marrick waiting for her with a scowl on his face. No!

"Why are you following me?" he immediately demanded.

"Um, what do you mean?" she squeaked, trying to effect a casual attitude. She was not successful.

"Oh come off it. You've been tailing me around the library for an hour," he hissed.

"Oh no, I've been reading a book," she said, wiggling her book in front of him.

"And walking? And you haven't turned a single page."

He had noticed that too? "I, uh..." she began, but trailed off. She couldn't think of a good excuse. Marrick rolled his eyes.

"This is no place for an interrogation. Come with me," he said, firmly grasping her arm. Her heart fluttered despite herself at his touch, and she did not resist. How could she? Gemma would follow him anywhere.

Marrick lead them up two flights of stairs to an empty room. She saw with dismay that it had a large window facing outwards, where anyone could see them, but she supposed it was too late to protest. He opened the door and she dutifully entered, and as he closed it he locked it from the inside. Locked? They sat down next to each other in chairs which surrounded a small round wooden table.

"These rooms are soundproofed for study groups, so don't worry about anyone overhearing us. But I think you owe me an explanation."

Gemma sighed. She was no good at lying, and the jig was clearly up. She pressed her badge, and with a buzz her disguise disappeared. Marrick gasped with shock.

"Gemma? But... what were you doing?"

"Oh Marrick, I'm so embarrassed," she said, casting her eyes downward. She could not bear to look at his face, especially since she felt her own burning. "I feel utterly ridiculous."

"This is, um, a bit surprising to be sure. Why were you spying on me?" he asked, this time softer. She still couldn't look up, but she saw, and felt, him lean in closer.

"Well, I suppose I have to begin with a confession. I found some, uh, some papers that I think belong to you."

She paused. Silence. Too much silence, too long. Finally she glanced up. Marrick's face was completely red.

Gemma could feel herself panicking. Did he despise her? She had no choice but to continue. She owed him the truth. With extreme difficulty she forced it out in a rush. "I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong but I read them. I read them all. And it looked like you were writing to somebody in particular so I... oh Marrick I'm so sorry."

"Stop," he choked. "I understand. You don't have to keep going." Marrick stood up. "You don't have to tell me."

"But I do. Let me finish," she pleaded, and took his hand, pulling him back to his chair. She could barely breath but she owed him the full story.

"What's there to finish? You read them and you don't return my feelings. I knew you wouldn't, that you couldn't. That it was all a foolish dream," he said, his expression full of so much pain that her chest ached to see it. Then confusion overtook her as his words sank in.

"R-return?" she stammered. "But – but I wasn't, I mean I didn't think. I was curious to see who they were written for. That's why I was following you."

" _What?_ " he asked, staring at her wide-eyed with bafflement. "Curious? Gemma, don't you understand?"

Something was changing within her, changing too quickly. Her pulse quickened and she met his gaze full-on. It couldn't be, it was impossible. But yet...

"Tell me," she breathed. She squeezed his hand in hers.

"I wrote them for you. To you. Gemma I..." he said, and her heart was overflowing, but she needed to hear him say the words. "I love you. Most ardently. With the blazing of a thousand toasty fireplaces."

"Oh Marrick!" she cried, swooning. She nearly fainted, and slumped in her chair, her body turning to a warm pulsing puddle of Gemma. He caught her, and she was there, she was in his arms. She wrapped her own arms around him and, finding her strength again, drew her face up to his.

"I love you, too, my sweetest honey fountain," she whispered, and leaned her soft, pliant lips up to meet his.

Then they kissed fervently for the rest of the day, became engaged that evening and lived happily ever after.


End file.
